


NoG Remix: Snape/Harry

by HPFandom_archivist



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Sexual Content, Slash sex, Tragedy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-08-22
Updated: 2008-08-22
Packaged: 2018-10-01 12:33:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,792
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10189997
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HPFandom_archivist/pseuds/HPFandom_archivist
Summary: Dark!Canon Snape encounters Harry shortly after he's been captured by the Death Eaters.  A porn piece written for a NoG fan.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Note from SeparatriX, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [HP Fandom](http://fanlore.org/wiki/HP_Fandom_\(archive\)), which was closed for health and financial reasons. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in August 2016. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [HP Fandom collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/hpfandom/profile).

_This is a porn piece written as a gift for a friend who has helped me a lot with my writing. Snape is canon but very dark and twisted, so be warned! As always, remixes are just possibilities and should not be taken as what is happening/will happen/has happened. I do not own the Potter series and I never will!_

“They’ve caught Potter!” Amycus Carrow announces, his grin twisting his face. “He’s at the Malfoy Manor!” 

“I see,” I answer as calmly as I can. “I’ll be right there.”

Carrow disappears from my doorway, and I throw on my travelling cloak. 

“Severus…” pleads Dumbledore from his frame. “You must find a way to convince the Dark Lord to kill him.”

“I know,” I bite back impatiently, tired of being treated like one of the brats. “I’ll find a way.” I stride quickly from the Headmaster’s office towards the grounds, cursing that old fool the entire way. Placing the fate of the world in the hands of three immature, fool-hardy teenagers hadn’t been his most brilliant plan and yet who did he rely on to pick up the pieces? Me. I’m not trusted enough to know the plan but I am trusted to fix it. How typical. 

And fix it, I shall because what else am I to do? I’ve become a servant to two devils and I won’t be free until both of my masters are dead. One down, one to go. I’ve often debated to myself which one was worse but times like these remind me that I would much rather work for Dark Lords than Machiavellian saviours. You always expected the possibility that Voldemort would kill you. Albus would pat you on the back, tell you he loved you, and then send you to your death full of more questions than answers. I learned that long ago, but that blind brat never did.

I incline my head at Draco as he answers the door and leads me to the brat. His pale face is white and his eyes unusually round. I’ve always been courteous to him; mostly because I want to fuck his mother. 

My Dark Lord is standing near the fireplace wearing the most satisfied expression I have ever seen on his reptilian face. Lucius stands beside him, proud and self-assured while everyone else is gathered like jackals around the crumpled heap of the brat. Blood is spattered all over the floors, walls, and ceilings around and under him to such a degree that most of it is black. His clothes are torn and tattered, the exposed skin red from all the blood. Someone is leaning over his body; drawing wet, strangled screams from his throat. 

The sight fills me with anger. I want to march over there and strangle his scrawny, little neck. Stupid fool. I have no doubt that his capture is due to his many faults. Instead of releasing my justified anger, I focus my attention on the Dark Lord, bowing before him with the utmost respect.

“My Lord,” the words slide easily off my tongue. The biggest lie and the most easily uttered. 

“Good of you to join us, Severus,” the Dark Lord comments in his strange, high voice. “I trust you have not left Hogwarts unattended.”

“Of course not, my Lord,” I assure him. What a fool I had been at sixteen and only less so at twenty one. I can think of no greater hell than serving masters less intelligent than oneself but not so foolish as to be easily led. “The Carrows have remained.”

The Dark Lord nods. “Rise, Severus, you have earned your right to be here on this fateful day.”

“Thank you, my Lord.” I rise, curse Dumbledore, and begin my attempt at saving the brat and myself. “If you do not intend to kill him right away, I would love your permission to play with him.”

“Go ahead, Severus,” he waves his hand nonchalantly. 

I spin my tale as I speak, watching the Dark Lord’s face for his reactions before laying my threads. “I ask for something a bit more, my Lord. I would like your permission for the chance to try and break him.”

“He already begs for death,” Lucius interjects, watching me with cunning on his face. He will want to be part of my plan and I will have to find a way to dissuade him later. For now, I concentrate on the Dark Lord.

“I imagine so,” I acknowledge, tying off that thread and starting a new one. “But I was picturing something a bit … different. He has many followers who will try to avenge his death. If he should stay alive but follow your will,” I nod to the Dark Lord. “Then their morale will be broken. Think of how they would react if they should see him kneeling before you.” His red eyes light up and I know I have him. I go in for the kill. “Let me have him, for a short while. I can make him eat out of the palm of your hand. I can make him want to serve you.”

“And how will you do that?” asked Lucius with a laugh. I know he is jealous that I have not shared this plan with him. 

“I have my ways,” I respond. “In the end, he will die as my Lord pleases.”

“Severus, tell me why you want him,” the Dark Lord demands.

I pretend that he has caught me. “I admit that my desire is not only to please you, my Lord. I want him for the same reasons I wanted his mother: revenge against his father.” Lies are truths from another point of view. 

The Dark Lord laughs, his high, cold voice ringing through the room. “You have two weeks, Severus. Do not disappoint me.”

“I won’t, my Lord.” I bow low before him. There are advantages to serving masters less intelligent than I. Two weeks is not nearly enough, but deadlines can always be extended. I stride over to the brat, scattering the ring of vultures around him. Only Bellatrix stands her ground, glowering at me through heavy-lidded eyes. I would’ve killed her already had I not needed her. It is always best to keep enemies close, particularly if those enemies are not the most intelligent of individuals. I would rather have her ineffectually biting at my heels than a more calculating opponent. I return her hateful stare, pretending I wish her dead.

“Put him in one of the bedrooms and clean him up,” I command before striding from the manor without checking to make sure my order has been obeyed. I don’t need to. I hurry back to Hogwarts and collect healing potions from my lab. I purposely avoid the Headmaster’s office. It’s best to let Albus worry helplessly in his frame. Perhaps he will be more forthcoming with information when I finally return.

I gather the necessary potions and return to the Malfoy’s. The brat has been laid out in a guest bedroom. He’s been stripped naked, the lack of clothes revealing deep cuts and dark bruises scattered liberally over his scrawny frame. He’s blind-folded and tied to the bedposts at his wrists and ankles. With any other wizard, the measure would be laughable, but the brat was never very clever. From the amount of blood loss, I assume that he’s unconscious, but when I pour one of the potions into a deep wound in his upper right arm, he hisses slightly and pulls away. 

I can’t resist taunting him. “I’m amazed you’ve lasted this long, Potter. I would’ve thought you’d been captured months ago.”

“Snape,” he spits, the venom thick in his voice. “Just kill me now. I know you want to.”

I lean down and whisper, “Now where would be the fun in that?” in his ear, causing him to shiver. He’s trying hard to hide his fear from me; his body tense and his lower lip in his teeth. 

I quickly smear a healing potion over his torso, planning and plotting as I repair him. I pass my hands over his genitals and he stiffens and pulls away. 

“No,” he insists, his body rigid and straining against his bonds. “Don’t touch me.”

I wasn’t going to, but his stubborn refusal to acknowledge the power I hold over him fills me with rage. It’s amazing how much anger I can hold for one small boy. One small boy who is the spectre of a man. I know I’ll never be free of these ghosts as long as I cling to the past but that’s okay. The past is here, tied helplessly to the bed before me. 

I push a finger into him, my finger sinking into the torn flesh of his upper thigh. He bites back a moan, gritting his teeth in pain. His flesh is hot and supple as I press the digit into him, watching the pain dance across his face. He never did learn how to hide his emotions. He’s young and innocent and just as handsome as his father. Could the saviour of the wizarding world really be this small child? This guardian angel, fallen all the way to hell. 

I remove my finger from his thigh and press it into his anus. His body bows as he tries to pull away. “No, no, no,” he chants repeatedly, his words a prayer. The words fill me with more lust than the sight of his beautiful, broken body. He’s tight and hot and I’ll be the first to take him. I should be better than this, but I’m not. When you’ve lived in the night as long as I have, the dark seeps into your heart. 

I climb onto the bed and reinforce the bonds with magic. He’s too stupid, drugged, and weak to mount a proper defence against me but I’ve never been one to take chances. I look down on my prey, at his skinny, struggling limbs. His nails claw helplessly at the cloth binding his wrists and his chest arches and falls as he tugs hard against the bedposts. 

I pin him easily with one hand and bend down for a kiss. He bits my lower lip as soon as it approaches his. I pull away quickly, ignoring the blood that seeps into my mouth. He’s wild, angry creature of nails and teeth who’d stab me through the chest if he could. It’s what I love most about him.

“You’re only hurting yourself,” I warn him before biting his ear. His blood is richer than mine, a warm, intoxicating blend of youth, innocence, and fire. I drink a rich amount before I hold his jaw open and thrust my tongue into his mouth, letting him taste both of us. 

I release his mouth and work my way down his chest to his small, pink nipples. I flicker my tongue over one while I tease the other with my fingers. He tries to pull away from me but there’s nowhere left for him to go.

“Dumbledore trusted you,” he accuses, as if I’m not aware of what I am and what I’ve done.

Yes, Dumbledore did trust me, the fool. Not as much as I had hoped, but he did. He of all people should’ve known that good and evil are illusions that weak minded children build into great solid foundations with sharp edges and distinct values. He thought my love for her stopped me from hating him but it only ever made it stronger. And now, with that cloth tied over his eyes, he is completely James. I’ve always wanted to destroy James.

I move into position, push his legs apart, cast a spell to make it easier for me, and thrust inside. He screams; his body twisting violently as he tries to escape from me. It’s glorious. His body grips me tightly, his heat inflaming me. His skin is glacial from fear and loss of blood, but underneath that alabaster, his heart pounds red blood furiously through his veins. It seeps down his thighs and fills the air with his pungent scent. I want to lap it up like ambrosia and let his mother’s blood flow through my veins. I want to thrust my hands in his chest, pull out his heart and consume it. She’d always be with me then. Maybe I will, eventually. For now, I’ll have my fun.

I should’ve done this long ago. If memory spells were perfect, I would’ve. I hold his hips down and drive into him, imagining it’s _him_ I’m really fucking. I hate him. For taking her away from me. For spawning this brat I’m bound to save. I want to break him. Tear him to pieces. Destroy every last trace of his existence so that only she remains for me.

But more than that, I want to be free of my masters.

Perhaps I can do both. 

I bend down to lick the tears from his cheeks. “Do you know what I am going to do to you?” I whisper in his ear as I continue to thrust inside his abused body.

He answers me with a sob, his head turning away from mine. His breath is short and sticky and it amazes me he’s even conscious. I know he will die unless I heal him soon, so I thrust quicker. 

“I will clean you up, heal all your injuries, and take away this memory. Then, I will train you to serve me. You’ll be my puppet. My slave. My lover.”

“No, no,” he protests, shaking his head. “I’ll never….”

“Yes,” I answer, as the details sketch themselves out. “You’ll love being my slave. You’ll love it because I’ll give you what you never had but have always wanted – the belief that you are loved.”

“I know what you are,” he insists, his body trembling. He has no strength to fight me anymore.

“If you know what I am, then you’ll know how similar I am to you,” I point out. “I know what you want because I wanted it like you.”

“I hate you,” he growls. “I’ll kill you.”

I thrust hard until he’s whimpering and I’m coming. After I’ve emptied myself, I pull out of him and release his bonds. He curls in on himself, not bothering to remove the blindfold as if the lack of his last sense prevents this from being reality. I climb onto the bed beside him, remove the blindfold, brush the hair back from his face, and kiss him on a wet cheek before wrapping my arms around him in an embrace he’s probably never felt before. He flinches at my touch, his eyes squeezed tightly shut, but he hasn’t the strength to escape from me. 

“I won’t hurt you anymore tonight,” I reassure him as I lightly stroke his face.

He gives a broken sob in response. I know he hates himself for wanting the comfort that I offer to him, but I also know how much he yearns for it. It will take some time to convince him to love me but I’ve always enjoyed being challenged. If he proves less than responsive, then I can always use the potions I’ve developed. The potions that I made for her.

My little pet. I stroke his hair lovingly.

“I will groom you to kill the Dark Lord,” I inform him. “That’s what you want, isn’t it? I can give him to you on a platter. Tell me, will you give yourself to me if it means the end of Voldemort?”

His eyes open; the incandescent green I so love. How many nights have I dreamed of those captivating eyes? For too long they have smouldered with rage directed towards me. They’re currently filled with tears; glistening, iridescent drops that amplify their beauty. I’ll make them gaze at me with love again. 

His answer is so quiet, a whisper meant only for me. “Yes.”

Of course he would. The brave Gryffindor. The selfless martyr, willing to offer everything he is to anyone who can paint a pretty picture. He’s yet to see my artwork and my masters have taught me well. 

I want to kiss him again but he’s full of rage and it will take some time before I’ve trained him to direct it only where I please. He’ll keep his fire as long as he serves my purposes. It’s easy to make him kneel before me. I want _him_ to kneel before me. To want to kneel before me. I slide out of the bed and begin to heal him and to mould him. I, Frankenstein, make my perfect Adam. 

I will have just what I want most: her to love and him to hurt.


End file.
